


How Very Cliche

by Light of the Dawn (pippathewriter)



Category: Total Drama
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 05:48:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1928934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippathewriter/pseuds/Light%20of%20the%20Dawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah is pleased to get a rainy day so he can relax and read his book, but when the cabin roof starts leaking, he's forced to find somewhere else to read. On the way, he sees Dawn being her usual weird self, but Noah finds himself falling victim to an old cliche, and wonders if Dawn really is as crazy as he thinks she is. Nawn oneshot. More friendshippy than romantic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Very Cliche

It was surprisingly quiet for a rainy day.

His castmates were who knows where and Noah didn't particularly care. He was content just staying in the cabin and reading. It was a good day for reading; it was far too wet and that meant there would be no life-threatening challenges that day. That fact alone was enough to give Noah reason to rejoice.

Unfortunately, his peace and quiet was not to be, and Noah was extremely irritated when a fat drop of rainwater found its way through the shingled roof and down onto the pages of the book he was currently reading.

With a groan of indignation, Noah swung his legs over the side of the bunk bed and climbed down, hoping to rescue his precious book from any further water damage.

His stomach, sensing that the rest of his body was now in motion, chose that moment to loudly demand food. With a sigh, Noah obeyed and, tucking his book safely under his arm, made his way out onto the cabin porch. With an annoyed expression, Noah prepared to sprint towards the mess hall to obtain sustenance, when something unusual caught his eye.

Bewildered, Noah stared at the sight for a moment with his mouth agape.

“What are you doing?” He finally asked, attracting the attention of the drenched girl in the green sweater.

“Dancing in the rain, of course.” She answered, reaching up with her small hands to part her pale blonde locks, which were soaking wet and partially covering her face.

“Why?” He raised en eyebrow questioningly, not that he particularly cared what she did.

“Why not?” Was the girl's only response.

“You look ridiculous and you're going to give yourself a cold.” He told her, rolling his eyes at her strange antics before starting to sprint across the campground to the mess hall.

Ten minutes later, he sprinted back through the rain to the cabin, Dawn still dancing barefoot across the grass. As he place his foot on the foot of the stairs up to the cabin, Noah realized that he'd forgotten to grab his novel and with a very irritated sigh, he turned to head back to the mess hall. Opting for a shortcut, he cut across the grass instead of following the gravel path to the other building.

Unfortunately, the wet grass did not provide as much traction as it ought to have, and as he sprinted across it, he slipped and landed flat on his back. His arms splayed out to the sides, he just laid there for a moment, just trying to catch the breath that had been knocked out of him by his fall.

“Oh dear, are you alright?” Dawn asked in a concerned tone, and Noah opened his eyes to find that the moonchild had suddenly appeared above him and was offering him a hand up.

He blinked as the rain his hit face, and wondered if he'd hit his head and knocked himself senseless when he found himself actually smiling.

“You know, I'm actually okay right here.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Dawn said with a nod, withdrawing her hand.

Noah closed his eyes again, wondering how it was that he'd never really felt rain before, or at least not in this particular way. It felt _nice_ , which was something that Noah certainly hadn't expected.

“May I join you?” Came Dawn's gentle voice a moment later.

“Why not?” Was his only response, and a moment later, he felt the wet wool of her sweater against his arm as she laid next to him.

His clothes were going to be wet, muddy and probably grass-stained from his fall, but the wet earth was far more comfortable than he'd expected. Even more comfortable than the nasty mattresses that they had to sleep on.

Perhaps that old cliche of stopping to smell the roses applied in that instance as well.

But everyone stopped to smell the roses, not everyone felt the grass between their fingers, breathed in the smell of the storm, listened to the steady drum of the rain and felt it on their skin.

And the beauty of the whole experience left him breathless all over again.

Maybe Dawn wasn't that crazy after all.


End file.
